


내 곁에서 머물러줘 (stay with me)

by rabiscar



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 20:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiscar/pseuds/rabiscar
Summary: Clarke hasn't seen Bellamy since she moved to Korea 3 years ago. When he's in Seoul for the week and stops by her small town to visit, she gives him the full experience: bbq pork belly, karaoke, and soju shots. Lots of soju shots. Now they're drunk and going back to her apartment to crash for the night and she is not overthinking it. Nope, not at all.





	내 곁에서 머물러줘 (stay with me)

Clarke hadn't seen Bellamy in three years. Not since they graduated college. But when he said he was backpacking around Asia, and she just so happened to be teaching English in Korea, she told him to come over for a visit. 

Bellamy Blake  
[11:24]  
How close are you to Seoul? I know you’re working, but could I come visit on the weekend? 

Clarke Griffin  
[11:25]  
3 hrs away from Dongseoul. but theres nothing here unless you’re into dried squid 

Bellamy Blake  
[11;25]  
that’s the main draw, ya 

A few days later and Bellamy Blake was back in her life, eating bbq, singing _A Whole New World_ with her at noraebang, and drinking from his first 소맥 tower. A few bottles of soju later and Bellamy Blake was drunk and leaned up against the wall outside her apartment while she tried and failed to unlock her front door.

"I think your keys have whiskey dick," Bellamy commented drily.

"I think you should shut up," Clarke hissed back.

"Why are you using a stage whisper?" he asked.

"I'm trying not to wake my neighbours," she insisted. She stuck her tongue between her teeth and furrowed her brow and jabbed the key haphazardly at her doorknob.

"Are you sure this is your house?" Bellamy asked.

"Please," Clarke blew her bangs out of her face and fiddled with the knob. "As if I'm drunk enough to forget my own house."

Her keychain dangled in her hand and she frowned.

"Oh wait," she paused. "This is my office key."

She changed keys and the lock snicked open easily.

Bellamy snorted.

"I'm never drinking with you again," he declared.

"Just wait another three years," Clarke said and shouldered open the door. "You'll come crawling back."

"Rude," Bellamy sniffed. "Implying it's going to be another three years before I see you again is rude."

They stepped across the threshold and Clarke flicked on the lights, allowing Bellamy to see her apartment for the first time. It was large by Korean standards but you could still see the whole thing, save the bathroom, from the front door. In the split second between the lights flickering on and the room lighting up, both Bellamy and Clarke fell still as they were faced with a burgeoning reality. There was a small single bed pushed up against the wall of the bedroom. And there was also a futon unfolded in the centre of the room. They both stopped and stared at it. 

Clarke tore her gaze away first.

“Do you need a toothbrush?” she asked suddenly. 

She avoided Bellamy's eyes and dropped her bag on the floor with a thud. 

“No,” he answered, taken aback, “I packed one.” 

“Do you want the bathroom first?” she asked, still not looking at him. 

He squinted at her and cocked his head. 

“No, go ahead.” 

She pulled a t-shirt and boxer shorts from behind her pillow and fled to the bathroom. She took her time brushing her teeth and washing her face and changing into her PJs. 

When she returned from the bathroom, Bellamy had already divested himself of his jeans and was sitting on the futon in his boxers and an oxford shirt. 

Clarke wrinkled her nose. 

“Are you wearing your button-up to bed?” she asked him. 

He reddened. 

“Uhh,” he stammered. 

“You weren’t wearing that before. Did you _change into_ a button-up for bed?” __

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Maybe,” he said and examined his cuffs. 

“Bellamy, your buttons are all fucked up, what are you doing?” she pointed at the front of his shirt. He had managed to button up the shirt but it was at least two button-holes off from where it should have been. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what was appropriate to wear in this situation and while you were in the bathroom I thought it would be really funny to go formal but now it just seems fucked up.” 

Clarke broke into a fit of giggles and fell backwards onto her bed. 

“You didn’t know what’s appropriate?” she asked. “God, Bellamy, just wear what you usually wear to bed.” 

“Yeah, but I usually don’t wear a shirt,” he protested and tugged at his collar. 

“Oh no," Clarke sat up and rolled her eyes. "How will my virgin eyes ever recover from seeing a man’s exposed shoulders and chest,” she pondered. “Also, I’ve never been to the beach in my life.” 

“Shut up,” Bellamy answered and squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to focus. 

“Would you stop being weird and puritanical and just wear normal clothing to bed?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he huffed and started aggressively popping his buttons open. 

Insisting he dress comfortably was perhaps, a mistake. 

“Oh my god,” Clarke blurted out. 

“What?” Bellamy demanded and looked up at her defiantly. 

It turned out that Bellamy’s exposed shoulders and chest were maybe a little more than she could handle. His biceps bulged and his chest looked firm and his abs were flat and toned and suddenly the room felt a lot smaller. 

“Do you need a blanket?” Clarke asked and jumped to her feet. 

“Uh,” Bellamy's eyes darted to her bed. Her bed was a nest of pillows fitted out with a fluffy duvet and a throw. His futon was bare. 

“Yeah,” he said and fiddled with a seam on the futon. “Yeah, I guess.” 

She threw open one of the drawers in her wardrobe and stared down into it blankly. 

“Fuck,” she said and cursed her hopeful former-self for not doing laundry. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I just have a sheet,” she answered. 

“It’s fine,” he told her. 

She scooped the sheet out of the drawer and threw it to him. 

“Won’t you be cold?” she asked. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said again and snapped the sheet open. 

“I’ll turn off the aircon,” she said. 

“Clarke, it’s fine,” he said yet again. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he said emphatically. He laid down and stared up at the ceiling with his arms at his side and the sheet pulled up to his chin. 

She turned out the light. 

“You look like a cadaver,” she mumbled and sat down on the edge of her bed. 

“What?” 

“Tell me if you’re cold, okay?” 

“Clarke.” 

“You can sleep here if you want,” she said in a rush and kicked her feet under her duvet. 

“Hm?” 

“If you get cold, you can sleep here,” she thumped her hand down on her mattress and curled up on her side before he could answer. 

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d heard her. 

“Never mind,” she said and rolled over to face the wall. 

Clarke laid in the dark and tried not to listen to Bellamy’s breathing across the room. But she found herself counting the space between his breaths as the minutes wore on. She was sure he was still awake. But she didn’t know how to reinitiate the conversation. They were quiet for what felt like forever. She was just about to drift off when he finally broke the silence.

“I missed you,” he said suddenly, his voice gravelly from lack of use. 

She turned over, unsure if she’d imagined it or maybe fallen asleep and dreamed it. 

“A lot,” he said. 

She lifted her head from her pillow to see Bellamy curled up on the futon with the comforter pulled tight around him. The aircon was blasting directly onto him and his shoulders were hunched up to his ears. 

“Bellamy,” she whispered. 

He rolled over, bed sheet shuffling in the dark. 

She licked her lips and opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. 

“Are you cold?” she asked, finally. 

He shrugged. Or she thought he shrugged. It was hard to tell in the dark. 

“Come here,” she sighed. She lifted up her duvet in invitation. 

He breathed in sharply but sat up. 

“Come on,” she insisted and shook the duvet a little.

He pushed the sheet aside and stood up before crawling into bed next to her. He laid down stiffly on his side, careful to leave her as much room as he could on her tiny single bed. 

“This is like a middle school dance,” she huffed with her back against the wall. 

“Hm?” he asked. 

“Like seventh graders slow-dancing a foot apart from each other,” she said, only brave enough to say it out loud because of the dark. 

He shifted a little so his chest connected with her shoulder. 

“You’re stuck with me here,” he said. “You can’t exactly kick me out, there’s nowhere else for me to go. I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.”

She squinted at him in the dark. His face was drawn and his arms were pulled in against his chest, trying to take up as little space as possible. He was _holding back_. 

“Bellamy.” 

He met her eye uncertainly, his body still stiff on the edge of the bed. 

She reached out and put an arm around his shoulders to tug him to her. She heard his breath hitch in his throat but he rolled with her compliantly. She carded a hand through his hair. He seemed to melt a little at that, all nervousness leaving him as he settled in with his nose pressed up against her neck. 

“So you’d rather freeze on my shitty futon than get remotely close to me?” she asked and rubbed one hand up and down his bare back. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want you to think it was a line,” he said. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

She clicked her tongue against her teeth and squeezed his shoulder. 

“Idiot,” she said fondly. “It didn’t have to be suggestive, you could have just asked for another blanket.” 

“You could have just given me another blanket,” he pointed out and nosed her cheek. 

“You want me to?” she asked. “I can send you back to the futon-” 

“No, no, no,” he said quickly and tightened his arms around her waist. “I like it here.” 

He paused. 

“I mean, as long as you like me here.” 

She skated her hands across the broad expanse of his shoulders, his skin warm under her palms. 

“I like you here,” she agreed and pressed a kiss to his temple. 

He tugged her down by the hips and leaned his forehead against hers. 

“Good,” he mumbled against her cheek. 

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i'm not a koreaboo, I just live in ROK and based this off of every awkward sexual interaction i've ever had in my entire life. Hint: if you want a boy to sleep in your bed, do NOT half-heartedly set up a futon for him. He WILL BE CONFUSED.


End file.
